


Bad Days

by aceofhearts88



Series: Howling at the Stars [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Nightmares, PTSD, even if no one calls it that here of course, phantom pains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts88/pseuds/aceofhearts88
Summary: Jon's Papa has bad days.--Arthur struggles with nightmares that leave him locked in pain and grief for days.





	Bad Days

Jon's Papa had bad days. His Auntie Ashara called it so. It were days when Jon's Papa didn't leave his room and when they weren't allowed to go to him.

„He hurts.“ His Auntie Ashara would tell him when Jon asked her once why his Papa needed to be alone, „His head hurts very bad sometimes and then he needs to be alone. Your Papa is very sad right now but it isn't something where we can help him. Go and play with Torrhen and Mexes, Jon, I'll fetch you if your Papa feels any better.“

Another time he had dared to ask her what made his Papa sad and Auntie had picked him up into her lap, „Your Papa lost someone, Jon, people he loved very much and sometimes it hurts him so much when he gets reminded of them.“

It would still quite some time until Jon learned that those people had been parents.

\--

It always started with a nightmare. Not every nightmare led to those bad days, but the vivid ones did, the ones that kept him paralyzed, screams muffled into pillows, head pounding so fierce that he couldn't even open his eyes.

He would scream for minutes, first because of the dream and then because of the pain keeping his body locked up and his head pierced by swords. Ashara would soothe him out of it, gentle hands on his face until he was left gasping for air, a burning like wildfire in his chest. 

And then the next days would be lost.

Lost with him unable to stand up, to leave the room or even see the boys. Locked in his grief and the pain in his heart, locked in his own room, a black curtain pulled over the window to keep as much of the light out as possible because his eyes could barely deal with what flittered in through the curtains.

Those episodes became less the more time passed. The dreams became less vicious even. Arthur could still remember that the first ones had been so terrible that his sister had needed to call the guards to keep Arthur from trashing badly enough to hurt himself. 

This time it had hit him out of the blue, there had been nothing that could warned him of it, pleasant dreams turning into a nightmare and Arthur hated it so much that he could always remember it so clearly afterwards. Riding through the forest on a horse, breaking into a clearing and then riding along the dead men. Death everywhere. The Trident running red with blood of the fallen. And then in the middle of the crashing river, Rhaegar would kneel, he would always kneel in the water with Robert Baratheon looming over him, warhammer already raised.

And Arthur would draw Dawn, spurn on his horse and race closer but he would always be too late. Robert would slam the hammer into Rhaegar's chest and all that was left for Arthur was catch his friend as his body fell backwards. 

Sometimes Rhaegar would look at him, speak his name and then die. Sometimes he would ask why Arthur left Lyanna alone. Sometimes he would just whisper Lyanna's name before drawing his last breath.

Sometimes, like this time, Rhaegar's body never touched his hands, instead Arthur got covered in rubies until they forced him under water and all he could see was red, all he could hear was Lyanna's voice calling out to him to come back to her.

Arthur sighed, pinching his eyes shut to get rid of the pictures in his mind again, hands curled tight into the bedsheets, forehead pressed against his knees.

It had been almost two days since that dream and he had only just now managed to sit up without Ashara's help, the pain in his head was still hammering away, his whole body was aching with phantom pains of wounds that had long ago healed. Even the faint scars of the stab wounds those squires had given him when he was ten were throbbing again like fresh ones.

It was getting better, he had to tell himself that now, it was getting better, he was pushing through it better. He was working through this living nightmare and life was good, they were safe, the boy he had sworn to protect was safe and happy. That little boy had no idea of what horror had happened and if Arthur had any hand in it he would one day know about his history but never experience that terror himself.

Losing the people you love more than your own life.

Arthur straightened up again, leaning back against the wall and pulling the covers up to hide himself below them. Away from the world.

\--

It was well into the morning when Ashara slipped into his room again, Arthur had long since laid down again, on his side to keep injuries that weren't there from hurting even more. Face turned towards the wall. 

„Are you awake, brother?“ Ashara whispered and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, Arthur gritted his teeth and turned around, shaking his head when Ashara moved to help. The pain wasn't really there, he needed to do it alone to understand. „Milo brought back some milk of the poppy.“  
„No.“ Arthur answered the unspoken offer, „You know it won't help, Ash, it's in my head.“

„I can ask one of the maids to inquire for something else. They might not have our dreamine but they will have something else.“ He could easily see how worried his sister was again so Arthur grabbed her hand, squeezed lightly.  
„I just need some rest, I will be fine.“ He promised her, wincing over how affected his voice sounded, „It's getting better, Ash, I swear.“

„I believe you. I just worry.“

„You shouldn't. It's me who is the big brother.“ Arthur smiled and Ashara mirrored it, reaching out with her free hand to stroke some fingers through his hair.  
„That has never stopped me before, now did it?“ Ashara chuckled and fiddled with his hair some more, „And it never stopped Rhaegar from wrapping you into invisible wings either.“ Ashara paused after she had spoken, gauging his reaction but Arthur simply smiled at her gratefully, „Is it okay if we talk about him? Them?“

Arthur nodded and then grunted when Ashara climbed over him to lie down on the bed, he shifted onto his other side again, rolling his eyes when his sister went back to patting his hair. „I still remember when I came to court with Elia, that terrible assault by the Brotherhood and seeing you fight in the middle of all of that, gods it was horrible. My darling brother. And then we came to the castle and Rhaegar was running into the courtyard and I thought, my, that's a surprise, wouldn't have thought him to be so eager to meet his bride.“ 

Arthur laughed, quiet and wretched but it was a laugh. 

„But Rhaegar wasn't turning to us, he was delegating people to take care of the wounded, especially Ser Gerold. And then he was fussing over you and that tiny cut on your hand. How he talked to you, how just some simple words from him made your shoulders stronger again, made your eyes stop looking so guilty. I knew right then that I wouldn't have to worry about you so much anymore, not when the Crown Prince loved you so much.“

„Lewyn used to joke about who was Knight for whom.“ Arthur spoke up quietly, closing his eyes when Ashara leaned her head against his, „Rhaegar's shadow.“ It was the first nickname anyone had ever given him other than so-and-so's quiet brother, said person had been the Queen herself.  
„You were happy to hide in his shadow.“ Ashara reminded him and Arthur nodded, wordlessly agreeing, it had been the first place where Arthur had ever felt truly comfortable in his life. „You know...he is still watching over you, he always will. I know you don't believe in the gods, and I understand it, but he wouldn't abandon you.“

Arthur was surprised to feel tears on his face, his own. He could count on one hand the people who had ever seen him cry beyond the age of three until this mess all started, ruling out the number of times pain had taken over. On one finger even.

Rhaegar.

And this bloody Rebellion had brought it up to five.

Gerold, when Arthur had broken down after news of Rhaegar's death had reached them.

Lyanna, in the days after and when she herself had been dying.

Andric, when Arthur had broken down again in the night at Starfall after Lyanna's death.

And Ashara now as well, when Arthur had another episode like this.

„I never...“ He began and stopped again immediately, Ashara encouraged him to speak with a hum, fingers not stilling in his hair. Arthur took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes so he could look at her, „I never thought I would have to go on without him.“ Ashara smiled sadly but he could see that she tried to understand, „He was the Prince, he was meant to be King and I was the Kingsguard Knight. I was supposed to die so he could get there, I wasn't supposed to be left.“

„Did you ever think that maybe that was another reason Rhaegar didn't want you to come with him against the Usurper?“ Ashara asked him in a whisper, wiping tears away from his cheek with gentle fingers, Arthur breathed out another shuddering sigh as his sister continued, „We will never know if you being there could have changed a thing, but I know that...had you gotten between them, saved Rhaegar's life but paid it with your own...Rhaegar would have maybe become King but he wouldn't have ever been happy anymore, not knowing what he lost in order to get there.“

„Jon would have his father...and maybe his mother as well, siblings...Elia would have loved him, too.“ Arthur told her and closed his eyes again, Ashara hushed him.  
„Jon's father would have been King, Rhaegar would have never been able to be the father he wanted to be with the crown on his head.“ Ashara reasoned with him and Arthur knew her to be right, „And had Lyanna and Elia lived, they would have been Queens, and not even they could have had the time for the children. And siblings...I miss Rhae and Egg every day still, brother, but Jon and Egg would have lived their entire lives being compared to each other. They could have been the best friends and still people would have talked, would have judged them for who could be the better prince...Don't you think...that this is maybe the better way for a child to grow up?“

„Fearing that assassins might turn up? Not knowing the country he was born in? The blood family he has?“ Arthur threw out the questions that plagued him sometimes still but Ashara turned his face and tapped his cheekbone until he looked at her.

„Happy.“ She gave the short answer to her own question, „He is happy, he can be a child growing up without dozens of heads having too many expectations. He has a father who will protect him, who loves him so much. A father who plays with him day by day, who tickles him until he shrieks, who drys his tears, who tells him stories about the stars when his tummy aches, who holds him and hugs him when he has bad dreams. A father who will one day explain to him where he comes from, who his other father and his mother had been. A father who I know will never stop loving him no matter if this little boy will want to be a dragon, a wolf, a star or nothing at all.“

Arthur smiled, felt the headache face away even more now.

„Rhaenys would have adored him just like she adored Aegon, I am sure of it.“ Ashara went on still, „Aegon and him might have been the best friends and I am sure they would have grown to be stronger together than what the people threw at them to cause trouble. But here now...Torrhen and Rhaena might not be his blood, but Torrhen and him are as close as brothers, Rhaena will always see him as a big brother, too. And not even five name days or not, you and I, we both know already that Torrhen will never let anyone hurt him.“

„We're gonna be okay.“

„We will.“ Ashara agreed and then they both heard the distant call of said little wild wolf yelling for his mother, „I better go and see what that is all about again. Get some rest, Arthur.“ Ashara stood up again and went to the door, Arthur stopped her when she was about to close it again.  
„Leave it open.“ He said and saw how Ashara grinned, „If they ask, they can come, but tell Torrhen to be quiet.“

\--

He fell asleep again a few minutes after, peaceful dreamless sleep that he was gently roused from again when skinny little limbs were crawling over him and he opened his eyes to a face full of black curls. Jon moved again in the next second, turning around so his back was to Arthur's chest, Arthur brushed a kiss into his little wolf's hair and wrapped an arm around him, Jon giggled and held on. Across from them Torrhen had mirrored their position with his little sister and it was as always so mesmerizing to watch how his sister's eyes looked back at him out of two little children who couldn't look any different. 

Rhaena's hair was still so light that it was more white than the silver blond that Ashara had said her father to have had – one day Arthur would find out, one day – and Torrhen was all Stark with that untamed dark hair. She was thin and small and Torrhen had even at her age already shown that he would grow tall and broad shouldered.

It was Torrhen who spoke up, unsurprisingly, „Go back to sleep, uncle. I'm standing guard.“ And Arthur smiled and nodded, just as something grey and furry jumped upon the bed, Lorus curled up next to his head. Arthur was fully aware that he would soon come to regret not saying no this time about animals in his bed but he didn't care, the purring of the cat sounded wonderful. 

At least Meraxes didn't join them, too.

„Mexes guarding Auntie.“ Jon said as if he could read Arthur's thoughts, squeezing the hand that was resting on his stomach, „And we watch you. Papa gonna be okay.“

Yeah, he would.

One happy day at a time.

\--

Jon's Papa had bad days. His Auntie Ashara called it so. It were days when Jon's Papa didn't leave his room but now they were allowed to go to him.

They were allowed to curl up with him on his bed and hug him and cuddle with him, and if he was quiet Torrhen could tell them a story. 

Jon's Papa was hurt sometimes, and then he was sad, but Jon always knew his Papa would soon be happy and okay again.


End file.
